


A shelter in the cold

by WahlBuilder



Series: Scarves and Mittens [5]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2784350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's going to be cold, and Altair has a present for Malik, hoping that it will warm up everything between them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A shelter in the cold

The sky was low, full with promises of snow and cold, wet winds, but despite this Altair still had his doubts. He had been heavy with doubts since the Solomon’s Temple, since his stupid mistakes, and he was afraid that everything in his life had always been a mistake, from his every day actions to mission decisions, and he never, not once in his life, had been right and just.

He could only hope that this wasn’t a new mistake.

He ducked his head, avoiding a guard’s nervous gaze, and held his package closer to his chest.

He wanted to make everything right again, to fix, to go back, even if he hated the man he had been then, but he wanted everything that had been between Malik and himself back, the friendship, the closeness, the trust, but he feared that once betrayed, it could never be restored again, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter that he actually listened to others now, he saw only disdain and anger in Malik’s eyes.

He deserved it, he deserved it all, and more, and he wanted to apologise even though he knew that no apology could fix the past, but he couldn’t watch the bitter man that Malik had come to be, and it was only his fault.

He missed Malik. Going to him from time to time and seeing him, he missed him still, the man Malik had been, a friend, a brother, his smart remarks, his easy strength, his companionship. He hated himself for dwelling on the past, but he couldn’t stop and pretend he didn’t hurt. He had lost not only Kadar but Malik, too, and was afraid that he couldn’t get him back.

He made his way onto the rooftops, nobody noticing him, people keeping their heads low under unfriendly skies and winds that had started to howl like unburied deadmen. The hatch of the bureau was beaconing at Altair with a promise of warmth… but not entirely. He jumped off the roof into the bureau, noting to himself to put something over the hatch later, to shelter it from snow.

He went softly into the main room, inhaling rich aroma of warm wood.

‘Your presence is not welcomed here, novice,’ Malik said, not even glancing at him. He was holding a quill in his fingers, tapping it idly on a page that got his attention.

‘I need only a moment of your time, Malik,’ said Altair, approaching him and unwrapping his package.

He was quick, going behind the counter and swiftly putting a long woollen scarf around his neck.

Malik was frozen for a moment, and Altair took a few steps back, prepared for a blow.

‘What is it?’ hissed Malik, dropping the quill and clenching one of the thick ends of the scarf.

‘Just a gift,’ said Altair as calmly as he could and then dashed forward once more and planted a light kiss on Malik’s cheek. ‘It’s going to be cold.’

He turned away and went to the exit, not ready to see anger forming in Malik’s eyes, not ready yet to see his present rejected, but prepared to know about this later. His hands were shaking when he got up on the roof.

‘Don’t let the guards hit you again, novice!’ he heard suddenly, and there was no flames of anger in the voice, just… confusion, maybe, and traces of something old and familiar that made Altair warm, and he smiled.

Maybe not everything had been lost, in the end.


End file.
